What Could Have Been
by Tania Helene
Summary: What could have been if the circumstances had been just slightly different? Starts with the scene where Christine takes of the phantom's mask. To be continued? Read Authors Note please...


_**There were candles all around,**_

_**There were candles all around,**_

_**And on the lake there was a boat.**_

_**And in the boat there was a man…**_

He turned to the source of the voice, and his green eyes met, unprepared, a pair of brown ones. His heart skipped a beat, and his breath became heavy and nervous. He had to turn away again or else he wasn't sure he'd be able to break away at all. Her voice, _she _was so beautiful… so pure…

His gaze found the organ he sat before and his wrenched reflection in the golden metal. What should he do? What should he say?

Christine had finally reached him, and he was sure that his heart would jump out of his chest every moment now.

Her beautiful voice rang again:

_**Who was that shape in the shadows?**_

_**Who was**__** that face in the mask?**_

He wanted to turn to her, see her, maybe even speak to her (if he could make his voice obey him that is), he wanted to touch her, he wanted… However, to his surprise, she had thought the exact same thing first. Her hand glided down his face, the side which wasn't covered by white porcelain. Her skin against his felt like a caress from Heaven itself. His breathing was stuck in his lungs.

When her fingers touched the mask, his eyes went wide. With reflexes a cat would envy he tore himself away from her soft and tender caresses and watched her with large eyes and strong feelings. She fell backwards by his sudden movements. Her gaze was as surprised as his. He had breathing difficulties, and he rested his face in his hand for a moment, to get back the control of himself. It had been so close. If he hadn't reacted she would have _seen _him, she would have _known_. He couldn't believe his own luck.

He looked at her and forced himself to sound composed when he said, "Don't touch the mask ever again. _Ever!_" He said it with a muted tone, and he couldn't quiet put the finger on which emotion he let show in it. Anger, fright or pure and simple relief.

Christine nodded and looked down in her lab with an oppressed look of guilt. He felt himself regain his composure.

He had pushed her. He had… His fright, worry and guilt took over.

"I'm sorry; it wasn't my intention to harm you. Are you all right?"

He took some careful steps towards her, and when she looked into his eyes, he felt a familiar warmth spread in his body as it always did when she was near. Firstly he kneeled down before her, which after he let her see the deepest apology in his gaze. Secondly he sat down on the small stairs beside her spot on the floor, and she turned with his movements. She looked as enchanted as he felt inside.

He repeated, "Are you all right?" Her eyes seemed to suddenly wake up. She nodded slowly.

Gently, he took her hands in his. None of them broke eye contact when they both placed themselves on the rather cold stone floor. However, none of them really noticed it because in that moment all they saw was the other.

Christine observed his face with a kind of childish curiosity but sincere interest. Then her eyes found their folded hands, and began examining his. He let her twist and turn them as she liked, while enjoying the feeling of her bare skin against his palm. No one had been so careful with him before, not like this, and it made his insides blaze up.

Suddenly the woman led his hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes for a second. Then she smiled kindly, almost apologizing. His own lips betrayed him and returned the gesture. Then he let his thumb run over her cheek, along her jaw down to her chin, and at last, when he reached her lips, his mouth went completely dry. Christine, who had had her eyes closed in delight, had now reopened them and saw his sudden nervousness. He was on his way to remove his hands when she gently, but firm, held them in place.

"It's all right," she whispered which after she very slowly leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, a light blush had crept to her face and he was pretty sure that his own skin wasn't as pale anymore. The honesty in her loving gesture started something in him. He loved her so much.

_He loved her so much__…!_

None of them had even time to blink before his lips caught hers in a kiss. It was so innocent and pure, exactly like he thought of her. He couldn't describe it as anything else than heavenly. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but when she placed her hand on his shoulder for support, his heart shouted with joy. She didn't pull back in fear, no disgust, no anger. The mask wasn't in the way at all.

The second thought that hit him was that he simply couldn't believe it. He kissed her, she kissed him. He expected to wake up in a minute, looking at the dark ceiling over his bed, feeling disappointment rush over him. In a minute…

But he didn't wake…

When they slowly broke, their half open gazes found each other. His heart and stomach were in constant restlessness. What would she do now? What should _he _do? What…?

But then she pulled him down for another kiss, and his eyes flew open with surprise. He relaxed rather quickly though and his hands found her face. She felt bolder and she opened her mouth to give him entrance. He had never kissed before so it was pure instinct that took over. He had never thought he was going to kiss a woman at all, and especially not the woman who sat by his side right now. The kiss became a bit deeper and he felt like his heart became one with Christine's for some unforgettable, passionate moments.

They broke once again and he let his eyes run over her features. The light from the many candles gave her skin a golden glow that made it seem even more soft and inviting. Her eyes had a small, yellow sparkle that played with the rest of her face, lightened it up. She could be read like an open book. However, how hard is it to read a smile?

He loved the fact that it was him, _and him alone_, who was the cause to that smile.

"You are beautiful," he couldn't help himself. In his eyes she was wonderful, in every way. Beauty was only one of the many qualities she owned. She was everything he wasn't…

Christine starred at him for a moment, and then her cheeks turned some shades darker. Then the smile returned but this time it was shy and a bit uncertain.

"Thank you. I wish I could say the same thing to you," he knew what she meant and he stiffened a bit. She, quite slowly though, reached out for the mask that covered his secret. He grabbed her wrists with firm hands and then looked her deep in the eyes, because he wanted her to understand. Understand why not.

"You must not. Trust me, it will only destroy what we have now given each other," and that was the last thing he wanted. She had touched him, kissed him, _blushed _by his compliments like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Never, _never _had he imagined he should experience something as wonderful as what they had just shared.

Christine bit her bottom lip and nodded obedient. Now she really looked like a small child. A child who had just been yelled at by her parents for being naughty. How could he make her understand?

"Christine…" he began, but then, surprisingly enough, she cut him off. Her voice was low and it was hard to say exactly what she felt when the words left her a bit flushed lips, "I've longed so long for seeing your face, laid awake at night, daydreamed at day, wished that you would show yourself to me. I don't understand because now, when you're sitting before me, you manage to keep up that wish. Why is it, that I can't see the face of my Angel of Music?" Her brown eyes were asking but at the same time they had a demanding glint which he hadn't seen her with earlier.

He was taken aback a bit because he honestly wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell her. Should he tell her the truth or simply what she wanted to hear? The latter opportunity seemed more inviting but something held his words back. Her gaze begged him to tell her and as weak as he was when she was in his presence, he couldn't deny her a right answer.

He swallowed hard.

"I… I won't lie to you, Christine. You must believe me when I say that I'm no angel. And my face would only confirm that fact," her expression became a bit confused by this confession. She frowned, closed her eyes and looked thoughtful, as if she tried to find the right words. His heart was stuck in his throat. Would she be angry? Disappointed?

"If you aren't sent to me from my father in Heaven, then who are you?" He met her gaze once again and he swallowed hard. Then he took a deep breath.

"My name is Erik."

"Erik…" She seemed to taste it on her tongue, and he couldn't help but feel a shiver down his spine by the sound of his name from her beautiful lips.

"But if you are of flesh and blood then why hide the evidence from me?"

This time he had no arguments. He couldn't give her back with words. There was no excuse for keeping the mask on. She reached out for the third time that night, but he pulled away from her, stood up, because he simply couldn't let her see him. She would scream, show disgust, maybe even hate him because of his little _masquerade_, but what would hurt him the most would be when she would turn her back to him.She would reject him, his love, the music which safely and confidently had consumed her heart as well as his.

"No…" He whispered. Christine stood up and placed herself in front of the stooping shape.

"Erik…" she pleaded, "please…" How could he say no? How could her mere presence make his will this weak?

She took a small step towards him and when he didn't move, she felt braver. Her hands found both his cheeks and her thumb tenderly caressed his exposed cheekbone. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her. He knew what came next.

The porcelain was slowly removed from Erik's skin and he kept his eyes closed meanwhile. He wouldn't, _couldn't _watch her beautiful face change into the expression he knew must be painted all over her features. He heard her gasp and then her near presence was gone. The mask fell to the floor with a loud sound which echoed his mistake all over the lair. He opened his eyes, quickly covered his face with his hand and turned away from her.

_FOOL! _He cursed himself, and if he did it out loud or not he didn't know. He felt his legs give in and he fell to his knees.

_What had he __**done**__? _

He couldn't face her; see the horror there without a doubt must be showed in her expressive eyes. The disgust, the fear, the hate… He had seen it before and this was no different. He had truly ruined it all.

"Christine…" He didn't know why he had to say her name either, but it flowed from him like a prayer of forgiveness.

There was quiet, but he could still hear her breathe like crazy. He turned around as slowly as possible to find his mask. He had to be covered again, or else… or else…

The mask was within reach, which he counted himself lucky for, but when he reached out for it he froze.

"I'm sorry," Christine sobbed low, almost a whisper. He looked at her, still with the hand on his face, and watched as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry… Forgive me, please forgive me…"

He was speechless. He had no idea what he should even think.

His fingertips made contact with cold porcelain and he continued his project, still not really progressed what she had just said. When the mask was safely put back again, he still hadn't removed his hands. Like it was some kind of extra shelter against curious eyes.

_Idiot… fool… _The words kept repeating themselves in his mind. Again and again they filled him with anger, agony and regret.

"It must have been horrible," she then sighed, "to live with… I wouldn't… I'm so sorry…" He didn't understand her exclamations. Cries were a matter of course he had expected but why…? Why did she apologize? All the thoughts suddenly hit him with full force and brutal as they were, they flew around in his head and kept him from grabbing hold on a single rational one.

So he did what first came into mind.

Erik stood up, still with his hand fixed to the mask. Then he sighed and turned to the fragile crying Christine on the floor. She had stopped sobbing though. Still his heart clenched by her vulnerable sounds for comfort.

"Come, you must return. Those two fools, running my theater, will be missing you."

**oO0OoO0Oo**

Christine stepped into her room, without looking at Erik as she passed. She felt like she was in a trance of some kind, everything felt like a dream and… unreal. When he had led her down to his home, she had had the same feeling, just a bit different. She had looked upon him with admiration and fascination, but now it was pure shock. She couldn't describe it differently.

She felt his ungloved hand let go of hers but her dreamy condition didn't change by this. She stood for a second, just standing, thinking nothing, while starring at the door in the opposite end of the room. The darkness threatened to take over, and only the light from the torches in the passageway gave a bit illumination.

However, the sun had begun to show its face far away in the horizon. The day was very young.

Not until she heard his soft voice say, "Goodnight Christine," she awoke from her trance. She turned around and opened her mouth to say something, but she found that she met her reflection in the glass in the mirror.

No… no he couldn't have gone yet.

"E-Erik? Erik, please wait…" her voice wasn't louder than a whisper, as her throat felt dry and useless. She wanted to tell him so badly. Why hadn't she used the time they were walking in the tunnel? What had kept her back?

She went to the mirror again, and tried to find the switch, the button, something that could help her open this damn thing! However, her search was in vain.

"Erik…" she repeated, and this time the tears fell once again. She couldn't hold them back, when her head would finally let her think everything over, everything that had happened tonight.

There was no answer to her soft calls and she went to her bed. She threw herself in it while letting the sobs escape her. She hugged a pillow tight to her and when she had been lying like that for some time, she finally drifted off to sleep. The tears hadn't even dried on her cheeks.

**oO0OoO0Oo**

Without her knowledge, Erik, the false angel, the Phantom of the Opera had been standing silently behind the hidden mirror door and watched her. His heart almost broke when he saw her in bed, crying for an unknown reason. Did she cry because of regret? Did she cry _for _him or _because _of him? He would probably never know.

He wanted to go in there so badly, taking her in his arms and comfort her. But for obvious reasons, at least to himself, he couldn't. He stayed until her cries and sobs had ceased and then he headed back. He couldn't take his eyes off of her until then. Even though she thought he had left, he couldn't do it. His heart wouldn't let him leave her in such a state. He couldn't comfort her, couldn't hold her and tell that it'll all be all right.

But he could be there for her…

Memories from the past hour returned to him with full force and he gritted his teeth in frustration.

"How STUPID I was!" He shouted as he slammed his angry fist into the cold, hard stonewall.

"How stupid…" his voice trailed off as his own tears started to fall.

He had ruined everything.

**oO0OoO0Oo**

**A/N: Okay, my first Phanfic… I wanted this to be an oneshot to begin with, but then I suddenly got some ideas for it to continue. However, I'm really, ****really**** bad at doing that, so I'll let the reviewers decide! Please send me a review if you want this story continued:)**** I'll take no reviews as no'es… **

**But please tell me what you think of it! You'll get a cookie for it **

**PS: I'll probably change the rating if it is going to be continued...**

**6**


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